A THOUSAND miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,-- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,-- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: RICHARD BONE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NEW YEAR'S DAWN - BROADWAY by SARA TEASDALE TO MARK ANTHONY IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS AN ODE TO THE RAIN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG |